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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29954364">midnight ride, or "space bound"</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/minbar/pseuds/minbar'>minbar</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>music to be buried by [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hotline Miami (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adopted Children but not really, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Cuban Manny Pardo (Hotline Miami), Drug Abuse, Fix-It, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Canon, Pre-Decadence, Pre-Hotline Miami 2, Rain, manny's a bottle blonde, thursday mood : manny and girlfriend's father-daughter relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 01:09:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,294</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29954364</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/minbar/pseuds/minbar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>is a cream cougar the present craze? and where are you parked, my car pet? (l'autre soir un air froid d'opera m'alita)</p><p>---</p><p>a girlfriend-centric fic</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Girlfriend &amp; Manny Pardo (Hotline Miami), The Girl &amp; Manny Pardo (Hotline Miami)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>music to be buried by [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2203071</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>midnight ride, or "space bound"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this is my maiden voyage to the hotline miami fanfiction writing community</p><p>this piece has some headcanons of my own, and thus may not be fully accurate to the game.</p><p>trigger warning for blood/minor gore and drug use.</p><p>that being said, i hope you enjoy</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>the girl was nothing short of fucked. bound by the offensive weight of simple lint in her too-shallow skirt pockets, the remnants of flammable liquid cascaded into the cracked corner of her bulk-brought lighter. as transparent as her, it was, the chafed surface of the metal phone booth buttons warped through meager plastic. ss disposable as she, another starry-eyed (although her eyes were vair) dame with hair of gold and skin fair in the middle of miami. </p><p> </p><p>although the deluge of diamond water cascading down the etched windows containing her in a form of protection one way or the other proved the true antediluvian nature of it all - oh, despite the balmy days and the palmy bays of miami, and the cars and the bars and the starline, her hair still bled with water, sticking it to her forehead.</p><p> </p><p>a quarter rolled through the midnight slot, the reticence of the booth almost allowing for the sound of its drop into the nothing to be heard and for it to pacify the girl, and the receiver sang again.</p><p> </p><p>“pick up, you asshole. that was my last quarter,”</p><p> </p><p>crossed arms laying across her chest, each tap against her bicep with her middle and index finger rippled through goosebumps like a pond. droplets ran down the phone supported by a raised, tender shoulder, soaking into the white button-up and her ear her only watchman.</p><p> </p><p>it never came.</p><p> </p><p>a sob cracked through the girl’s lips, the phone falling out of the void her shoulder left of it as her face met the only warmth offered since the climate christened her.</p><p> </p><p>“damn it, you fucking bastards!”</p><p> </p><p>sure, it rang. even through the daze of the smoke gathering at the top of the phone booth and gently kissing the windows with ash, this was the last this state had to offer. the locals would consume her alive. oh the cartels and cigarettes, our coquette.</p><p> </p><p>rising off the floor, she left the black phone to hang, drifting by the malleable, corkscrew black wire. afterall, she’d be sent to the gallows of this city soon herself.</p><p> </p><p>therefore, she waltzes with the brume.</p><p> </p><p>the cigarette, burnt to the filter, hissed as it fell 40 stories from her lips. any remaining inferno that ate through fell in love with the rain, and soon became one with the pavement below as the girl’s shoe squeezed it down in her stride. </p><p> </p><p>pepper clouds above seemed to laugh, canopying the remaining buildings and their light dwindling, neon out with a flicker among the caliginosity and leaving her alone at the ground floor among of the yellow hues of necessity. the movies stayed silent on such a topic, when she could watch them back in georgia. the blue capped star-men and scarlet-lipped starlets played unknowingly in these streets, and behind the scenes, after their nitpicked facades have dropped, they’d have their soirées. after all, it was the white-suited men who’d pick up after them. no real rain could pick them off, but it was better than soviet architecture, they’d say. anything but the rbmk reactor, they’d demand.</p><p> </p><p>buildings ahead faded into rickety, malevolent buildings. potent black trash bags and cigarette buds littered the thin line of asphalt and sidewalk, hints of blood dried to the street gutters under the quiescent moonlight. the girl swore the sight of machiavellian glints of metal from bullet casings, raining hell on the streets their own garden of folly. these were the avenues young harlots stayed clear from, that promising men were told not to go down. despite ajar garages, the streets remained limber. the girl was no mortician, but the streets remained in rigor mortis either way.</p><p> </p><p>the deep hollows of the nearby street gutters overtook her ears, draining the dusky water lavishing the streets, but her lithe arms had no use to protect her hearing. for all she knows (or cares), the girl hails this her final place of rest.</p><p> </p><p>a distant thrum of an engine begins to close in, and the girl’s aware of the brilliant, flickering headlight focused on her back. pausing, she’s just realized the heel of her shoe barely hanging onto the edge of the sidewalk. It might have been suicide in another context, but she spared a glance over her shoulder at the approaching vehicle.</p><p> </p><p>despite the inscribed, thin scratches on the boot of the car, as if it were keyed by a maddened ex-lover, it was relatively well-taken care of - spare the dimmed headlight. the dark slate blue colour mirroring the dark forecast. the former polishing it had was prominent with saturated droplets. The girl blinked when the driver rolled down the window, watching the glass disappear into the door and reveal a sullen, brunette man. a shadowy scruff aligned the lower half of his face, eye bags that haven’t seen any sleep (and maybe he truly hasn’t, if he frequents this part of town so during this hour of night) contrasting severe green eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“what’s a girl like you need in this part of town? at this hour?”</p><p> </p><p>the girl’s sudden scowl didn’t phase the man. “i ain’t a hooker,”</p><p> </p><p>the man pulled his hands from the reflective leather wheel defensively, before they fell back again. “okay, okay, calm down. i never propositioned you-”</p><p> </p><p>“sure you didn’t. not yet,” the thread running thin, the girl continued down the sidewalk at a brisk pace, the car stalking behind her without much effort.</p><p> </p><p>“-but god knows what might happen in a place like this - you know how this city is,”</p><p> </p><p>“what’s your point? i’m tryin’ to leave the place myself, in case you couldn’t tell,”</p><p> </p><p>“how about a ride?”</p><p> </p><p>“are you fucked?” the girl stuffed her balled-up fist into her pockets in outrage.</p><p> </p><p>“maybe i am, but i’m offerin’. you taking it or should i leave you out here to discover the streets?”</p><p> </p><p>a piercing shiver wrought through the girl’s body, exacerbating the hunger pains ravaging her innards for the past few days. this...man fell right into her lap, and she was sure if she walked the last few miles ahead she’d collapse-</p><p> </p><p>“fine,”</p><p> </p><p>“i thought so,”</p><p> </p><p>looking over the silhouette of the car in her vision, there were no rival lights revealing from the horizon. it was just the two of them now. breathing in the humid air, the girl began to circle around the car, finding herself in the middle of the street and her fingers curled into the entrenched car door handle. tremors rode up her fingers, and her new fatigue had just begun.</p><p> </p><p>“it’s open,”</p><p> </p><p>thankfully, the door swung open with ease. the warmth radiating from the inside nearly threw her off, so jarring from the past month, her stomach churned from it. closing the door as she set herself hesitantly onto the auburn seats, she tipped her head over and sighed, feeling some semblance of warmth rise back into her cheeks and her fingers. slowly, but surely. relapse comes quiet. a corner of her mind screamed, acutely aware not of the fact that she entered a stranger’s car; oh, no, she was desperate at this point, but that the running droplets from her hair and her clothes were tinting the seats and leaving a foggy blemish on his window.</p><p> </p><p>her melancholy eyes drew to the man in the driver’s seat, suddenly fumbling with drawing his leather jacket off his broad form and leaning over, towering over her and seemingly veiling any light shining on her from the interior of the vehicle to set the oversized article of clothing around her shoulders. the girl closed her eyes, swimming in the heat radiating off his body even from generous distance he kept and raising a trembling hand to catch the sleeve of it, drawing it close.</p><p> </p><p>“where are you heading?”</p><p> </p><p>“whatever place will take me…’ve got no more money,”</p><p> </p><p>the man glanced down, eyes passing down the bent bridge of his nose as he stepped onto the gas with copper oxfords. the girl’s eyelids fluttered, half-lidded as washed-out eyelashes pressed against her cheeks. for now, she could approach the rain from the benefit of shelter, even from a faceless, nameless man. for once, the moisture would pound onto the window and drum her to sleep instead of sticking her clothes to her skin and keeping her wide awake.</p><p> </p><p>she’d nearly succumb to the noble, dry inside of this place, the buildings fading by swiftly, allowing her to forget them and leave her mind at ease.</p><p> </p><p>“where are you taking me, detective?”</p><p> </p><p>soon enough, the corners of the girl’s mouth nearly lifted mischievously from the movement of the man’s head, snapping back to look at her lingering through drowsiness something paranoid, almost.</p><p> </p><p>“lucky guess, huh?”</p><p> </p><p>she shook her head.</p><p> </p><p>“no, you had your badge and id out,”</p><p> </p><p>pointing half-heartedly between their seats, surely enough the gold revealed itself, twinkling lazily under his critical gaze. the man took both in his hand, hastily stretching his shoulder and stuffing it into the glove compartment, growling a thick “<em> ¡coño!” </em>between his gritted teeth.</p><p> </p><p>“...observant, aren’t you?”</p><p> </p><p>“‘suppose, where are we going?”</p><p> </p><p>the detective’s head peered out his adjacent car window, his ring finger tapping impulsively against the curve of the wheel. “taking you to a nearby motel for the night. you’re barely conscious,”</p><p> </p><p>“i told you, i don’t have anymore money,”</p><p> </p><p>“don’t worry about it. it’s on me,”</p><p> </p><p>the girl hummed in response, fumbling with the circular buttons affixed to the pockets on his jacket. it was subdued in its scent, almost perplexing. the underlying musk of leather was prominent over distant gunpowder and a no-name cologne.</p><p> </p><p>“what’s got you lost in miami?”</p><p> </p><p>pursuing her lips in response, she had no comment on his rather messy attempt at small talk.</p><p> </p><p>“got busted for something and ran as far as i could. from georgia all the way to here,”</p><p> </p><p>“that’s far, least you made it,”</p><p> </p><p>the detective’s fingers trailed to an open cigarette case between them, the engraved markings of the silver edges as sharp in its detail as a fledgling guillotine. slipping a fag through his fingers, he lifted his wrists to the girl, his eyes expectant. the girl squinted at the offered cigarette before turning her head to the window, almost rooting herself into the side of the door. the detective’s shoulders rose at a thrown shrug before placing it between his lips and kindling it.</p><p> </p><p>“barely. i should've stayed in that state, detective. how could you stand it here?”</p><p> </p><p>“i don’t. i stay to pick up the slack and do what needs to be done. desperately,”</p><p> </p><p>“you could have left,”</p><p> </p><p>“i’m not driving you to georgia,”</p><p> </p><p>clicking her tongue against the bare roof of her mouth, the girl grimaced at the assertion.</p><p> </p><p>“i don’t want you to, i just want to forget,”</p><p> </p><p>the wheels outside screeched against the asphalt, ponds of rain water gathering in the crevices of the concrete severed as they launched forward from the inertia of the car parking suddenly and bathing the street in front of them equally. the deep click of the car doors unlocking mutilated the iron curtain of silence asphyxiating the car. shrugging the heavy leather jacket off her pallid frame to gather thickly in the crook of the passenger car seat, the girl pulled down on the handle and stepped out back into the rain. overhead, the prudent motel blended into the bland scenery of the area, the beige melting into the overarching palm trees crying with rain and the dimmed sign’s lingering tremble illuminating the doorway. the girl expected something much more dilapidated, and it wouldn’t have been out of the ordinary.</p><p> </p><p>the girl slams the car door, shaking the vehicle as she passes by the windshield, trailed with water and with the fluttering wings of the wipers rocking pendulous over the glass, the detective watches her intently and turns to her when she approaches his car window, rolling it down.</p><p> </p><p>“uhm, thanks - for the ride,” the girl looked down, bumbling with the bitten tips of her bony fingers. dull, scratchy scrapes came from the inside of the car, and the girl looked up to see a few fair rolls of cash jutting between the detective’s calloused fingers. shyly lifting her wrist, the detective gently set her hand forward, laying the money flat onto the surface of her palm and then closing her fingers around it into a fist. thought behind the action almost benign.</p><p> </p><p>the man pulled himself back into his car, hands set on the wheel and focused on the road ahead. nonetheless, he affords a glance to the girl.</p><p> </p><p>“i'm sure we all do,"</p><p> </p><p>the girl’s eyes sparkled, and her gaze shifted, the sides of her mouth splitting into a grin.</p><p> </p><p>“of course. maybe i’ll see you one day, manny pardo.”</p><p> </p><p>up the car window went, the dark slate blue melting into the distant darkness, the amber burn of the streetlights not yet victorious. approaching the doorway of the establishment, maybe this is the second chance that fell in lockstep.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>oh, ivan, that light hurts! are you still hunting? the girl’s feathered vision swims in her haze, suffocating with rolling cameras and heroin riding her veins. the heat inside traps her, the form of distant black thawing into the walls. that night ago, if she had the advantage she’d swim with the fishes, the leather bed set scratching her naked skin a dagger of the mind, and champagne hair hastily chopped short scratching the back of her neck.</p><p> </p><p>a well-built figure encroaches, looming over her and dripping from his fingers, pink flesh wedged under his short fingernails. her head falls, and manny’s name a ghost on her lips as she hoarsely whispers,</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “yeah...just get it over with...i knew it would end like this.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>a stationary cough wracks her body.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>fuck this *cubanifies your manny pardo*</p><p>special thanks to my beta reader pamphy.</p><p>if you liked the story of thick skin and his offspring you can comment, kudos, or whatever you want.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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